Forbidden
by SiriuslySarcastic
Summary: A story revolving around Draco Malfoy, as he struggles with his crush on Hermione Granger and his duties as the son of a Death Eater, through his school years.


**And here we have a four-part one shot about Draco, as he struggles with his love for Hermione Granger and his duties as the son of a Death Eater. The story begins from his fourth year at Hogwarts. There are several cannon references.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Draco Malfoy was a playboy. He was well aware of this fact, and so was the rest of Slytherin. And Ravenclaw. And Gryffindor. And pretty much everyone else in Hogwarts. They would see him with a new girlfriend on his arm ever so often. The duration of his relationships usually depended on how much the girl interested him. Daphne Greengrass had dated him for four weeks, Pansy Parkinson for three. Everyone knew that he had no feelings for these girls. The witches themselves knew. It was just that they couldn't resist the chance to be the girlfriend of Draco Malfoy.

But what no one knew was that Draco _did _have feelings for someone . Even playboys had their soulmates, and he believed that this girl belonged with him. Yet, he knew it couldn't possibly happen.

For she was the best friend of Harry Potter, and Draco was his arch enemy. She was Muggleborn, he was a Pureblood. She was the Gryffindor princess, he was the Slytherin prince. She was a goody two-shoes, he was the resident bad boy. She walked the path of light, he came from a family of Death-eaters.

His love for Hermione Granger was a forbidden passion, a guilty pleasure. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. He was in love with her.

And no one could find out.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not as ignorant as Ronald Weasely. It didn't take him four years to figure out Hermione was a girl.

It took him three. He even remembered the exact day he fell for her, though he didn't understand it at the time.

It was the time of their third end of the year feast. He was sitting between Crabbe and Goyle, idly poking his food with his fork as he pretended to listen to Pansy's chatter.

He heard the Gryffindor's table burst into cheers. _Again_. He rolled his eyes. Yes, Gryffindor had won the cup, they got it.

He glanced up. It seemed that they were making toasts, and after each one the red table would burst into a loud round of applause. Apparently Granger had just stood up, claiming that she would drop a few subjects the next year. Hence all the cheering.

He rolled his eyes once more and returned to the task of prodding his untouched chicken leg.

To his surprise he found himself looking back up at the Gryffindor table, a mere matter of minutes later. Looking at Hermione Granger. He had no idea why he had suddenly zoned in on her person, but for some strange reason, he just couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away.

And as he stared at her, he began to feel ... different. Different about all sorts of things.

She didn't appear to him like the way she used to. Now, her hair didn't seem all that bushy, and her caramel eyes began to look rather pretty. Each time he looked into them, he would get this warm and fuzzy sensation in the pit of his stomach. He knew that over the year, he had felt this before - the day she had slapped him, all he could think of was how cute she looked when she was angry. But the feelings had never been as strong as they were at this moment.

All of a sudden, he wanted to go over to her table, and congratulate her on winning the house cup. Maybe he would. He'd go there, and say, "Congratulations. " Then she would smile at him, and invite him to sit with her. And then -

"Draco," called Pansy's voice, pulling him out of his reverie. He looked around. He was standing a few feet away from where he had been seated. Crabbe and Goyle were staring at him in confusion, apparently wondering whether they were supposed to get up and follow him.

"Where are you going?"

He shook his head, and mumbled an incomprehensible excuse.

She shrugged, before resuming her chatter.

Draco sighed as he looked back up at the Gryffindor's table. He didn't know what these feelings were, but he would have to get rid of them, before he made an utter fool of himself.

* * *

Draco realized, that summer, that it was easier said than done. He had a mild suspicion as to what this feeling was. So he decided to test his suspicions - by asking his mother how she had met father.

Narcissa had sat him down and told him the whole story. It had been quite boring - their marriage had been arranged by their parents. Not that Draco was looking for a good romance or anything. But Narcissa had said that each time she looked at Lucius, she would feel a warm glow within herself - very similar to what Draco felt when he looked at Hermione.

The only thing left was to test this theory.

So as his grey eyes met her brown ones on the day of the Quidditch World Cup, he couldn't help but finally accept that he _had_ fallen for Hermione Granger.

* * *

Chaos had taken control. The tense air was filled with agitated shrieks, cries for help and flashes of light. People were running and screaming, trying to get away from it all.

Draco's head swiveled frantically as he surveyed the tumultuous scene. He pressed himself against a tree as a couple of Death Eaters staggered past, crowing with laughter and talking drunkenly. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He wasn't exactly fond of most of them.

But that was besides the point. Right now, all he wanted to see was a certain bushy haired witch, safe and unscathed. He knew that to Death Eaters, Muggleborns were just as bad as Muggles, and he wasn't going to let anything happen to her. Fear surged through him. What if something already had?

"What happened?" asked a familiar voice, as he saw a wand light up some distance away, illuminating a girl's face. His breath hitched. That was her. Hermione.

"Tripped over a tree root," came the reply. Draco scowled. Weasley was with her. Of _course. _Then Potter would be too.

"Well," he drawled, "With feet that size, hard not to."

The golden trio turned to face him. He leaned against the tree, trying to look relaxed. He let his lips curve into his customary smirk as Ron insulted him.

"Language, Weasley. Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like _her_ spotted, would you?"

He gestured to Hermione. She stared back defiantly at him. He felt his heart skip a beat, and scowled inwardly. Did all fourteen-year-olds feel like this?

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Granger, they're after _Muggles,_ " He couldn't help but notice how cute she looked when she narrowed her eyes at him, "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air?"

As Potter and Weasley continued to snarl and snap at him, he glanced at Hermione once more. She had a few scratches on her arms and face - probably from the trees, and her hair was messier than normal. But she seemed to be okay. He relaxed slightly.

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," he called after her, as she dragged Ron and Harry away. He slumped against the tree, the moment they were out of view, and sighed loudly. She would be safe.

* * *

As the days of his fourth year passed, Draco began to realize exactly why Hermione didn't like him. With his mocking Weaselbee's dress robes (But who wouldn't? That pathetic excuse of a garment looked like something a sixty year old woman would have worn in the 1890s.) and constantly goading Potter (Surely all that blabber about a hurting scar was nothing more that a ruse to get attention?), it seemed that Hermione just saw him as some sort of pest she would have liked to squish. The fact that he had accidentally hexed her teeth didn't help either. Though he supposed it had helped in some way. After all, didn't she get them all nice and normal sized after?

The reason he was picking on Weasley and Potter even more that year was simply due to jealousy. They were _always_ with her, laughing and talking. All the time. It annoyed him to no end. Though for once, someone was annoying him even more than Potter and Weasley did. Viktor Krum.

It was a week before the Yule Ball. Draco had been in the Slytherin common room, reclining on a particularly comfy leather sofa as he idly turned the pages of _The Dark Forces : A Guide to Self-Protection. _He wasn't really reading, and was simply listening to the soothing sounds of the lake water lapping against the windows as he immersed himself in thoughts of his own. It was quite late, and only Krum was in the room to keep him company.

"Malfoy," he called, in his heavy Bulgarian accent, "I vish to talk to you."

"Talk away, Krum," said Draco, not looking up from his text book.

Krum looked around the room, as if trying to confirm that they were alone, before speaking.

"It is about Hermy-own."

He looked up.

"Hermy-own," he repeated. Krum nodded.

"You mean Hermione, right?"

"That is vot I said."

He snorted, "Sure it is."

"She is very pretty, is she not?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at the international Quidditch player, before replying.

"Yeah, I guess she is. Where are you going with this?"

"I vont to ask her to the Yule Ball."

Draco felt an unexpected surge of anger.

"So?" he snapped. First Weasely, then Potter. Now Krum?

"Ask her. Why does this concern me?"

"You like her," he stated simply, "I though you vould haff a problem with me inviting her."

Draco stiffened. Had he been that obvious?

"What?"

"I see the way you look at her. You like her."

"I don't!" he emphasized forcefully, sounding thoroughly unconvincing.

"But you - "

"Goodnight," he said curtly, standing up and walking out. He could feel Krum's eyes on his back as he left the common room.

* * *

Draco gazed around the makeshift ballroom as he sipped his glass of mead. He had to admit, the Great Hall looked rather quaint- with the fairy lights and rose bushes. Yet, the decorations did nothing to improve his mood.

Beside him, Pansy pouted slightly as she watched all the other couples dance. Draco had retired from the dance floor a while ago, after getting tired of watching Krum and Hermione waltz around the room. Though, at the moment, he had no idea where they were.

"That's Krum," said Pansy suddenly. He looked up, to see the Bulgarian boy scanning the crowd, his brow furrowed. He was holding two glasses in his hands - he must have been looking for Hermione as well. But she was standing on the other side of the ball room, and for some reason (a reason that was probably red headed and freckled) she looked absolutely_ furious_. An idea popped up in Draco's devious mind.

"Hey, Pansy," he said, "Why don't you ask him to dance?"

She looked at him in confusion.

"But wouldn't you mind?"

"Nah," he said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand, "Besides, it isn't every day that you get to dance with an international Quidditch icon. And I bet it would nark Granger completely." A gleeful smile spread across her face.

"Sounds like a plan!" she exclaimed, before bounding over to Viktor. Draco watched as he listened to Pansy's invitation, scanned the room once more, then set the glasses down as he lead her to the dance floor.

He smirked. Phase one of his plan was complete.

He sauntered over to Hermione, placing himself right behind her as he stared at her appreciatively. She had really outdone herself - she looked absolutely stunning.

"Hey, Granger," he called. She turned sharply, glaring daggers at him. Apparently, her stormy mood still hadn't wavered.

"What?" she snapped.

"Dance with me."

The brunette stared at him, temper forgotten, quite at a loss for words.

"What did you say?" she asked finally. He rolled his eyes.

" I don't recall you being deaf, but I'll repeat myself anyway. Dance with me."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What's in it for you?"

"A dance. Besides, our partners seemed to be dancing with each other." Her eyes swept over the dance floor.

"No," she said finally. Her response stung Draco more than he though it would have. Still, he was Malfoy. And Malfoys always got what they wanted. Even if they had to play dirty to do so.

"Oh I see." he said, with the annoying air of a person who thought they were always right. "You just don't want everyone to know, do you?"

"Know what?" she asked, scowling.

"Know that you can't dance for peanuts."

"Of course I can dance!" she said, starting to get riled up.

"_Sure_ you can," he said, rather patronizingly , "But you do dance rather clumsily. You only managed to cover it up because Krum's dancing is worse than yours. And don't bother defending him." he added, as she opened her mouth to speak, "I've been watching him dance with you. He stepped on your feet at least six times."

"He most certainly did not!" she spat hotly, as he rolled his eyes once more. She looked as though she wanted to slap him. It wouldn't have the first time anyway.

"And my dancing is absolutely fine!"

"Then prove it," he said, looking her in the eye with utmost seriousness, "Dance with me."

She glared at him for a little while longer, before letting out an exasperated noise, and dragging him on to the dance floor. He placed a hand on her waist, and clasped her hand with the other. He felt little jolts of electricity run through his arms.

And they began to dance.

He had never experiences anything as beautiful as this. It was just the two of them, moving in sync. As the music surrounded them and they waltzed their way through the floor, Draco's eyes never left Hermione's.

"So," she said, as he twirled her impressively, "Aren't you feeling disgusted right now? After all, you _are_ dancing with a Mudblood."

He cringed. Trust her to bring up uncomfortable topics while they were dancing.

"Mudblood...is just a word," he said finally. She eyed him carefully.

"What do you mean?"

"Think. Aren't there a whole lot of Muggle saying pertaining to this very topic? Something about actions talking more than sentences?"

"Actions speak louder than words?"

He nodded. She stared at him dubiously.

"So you're trying to say that when you call me Mudblood, you don't actually mean it."

"Yeah." He shrugged, "I guess that's it."

"So why call me Mudblood in the first place?"

"Pureblood obligation," he said, almost instantly, "I, being a Pureblood, am supposed to look down upon Muggleborns. It's what I was raised to believe. By calling you a Mudblood, I'm simply keeping up my reputation."

"So what you're saying, is that when you call me Mudblood, I'm not supposed to take it seriously?"

"Essentially, yeah."

He spun her outwards, then spun her back in such that her back was pressed to his chest .

"And if anyone asks about this conversation-"

"It never happened," said Draco immediately. He thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards.

"My lips are sealed. Since we absolutely _must_ protect that reputation of yours."

"Yes indeed. After all, a fake reputation is all a man has."

He didn't miss it this time - a full blown smile appeared on her face. He, Draco Malfoy, had just made Hermione Granger smile. He twirled her again, pulling her back into their original stance.

"I'm going to dip you now," he said. He didn't miss the worry that flitted across her face.

"Are you sure?" He winked at her.

"Trust me."

He placed his had on the small of her back, and lowered her to the ground, until she was inches from the floor. He held her there for about five seconds, before deftly pulling her back up.

The couples around them burst into cheers.

But Draco and Hermione heard none of the applause. For they were in a world of their own.

And for that moment, everything was perfect.

* * *

Draco's satisfied smile was extremely evident as he roamed the corridors of the castle. It was past midnight, the Yule Ball had finished a while ago. He had managed to get rid of Pansy (before she could get any ideas of yanking him under a mistletoe) and was currently eating a cauldron cake that the house elves had so kindly given him.

But all he could think of was Hermione. The dance they had shared had been pretty special, hadn't it? He was sure that he had a chance now. Maybe, in the weeks to come, he'd ask her to Hogsmeade. Just as friends, of course. Seeing as how he had mocked and teased her for the past three years, he needed to start right from the beginning.

He walked past a hallway that lead to the Transfiguration classroom, and turned almost immediately. What was Hermione doing there, so late at night?

He backtracked, but when he caught sight of her, froze. Hermione was there alright, but she wasn't alone.

Krum was there, pressed against her- but what _really_ made Draco's blood boil was that Krum was _kissing_ Hermione. That foul git, kissing the one girl he truly liked. He felt white hot anger dart through him, until he wanted nothing more than to rip the head of the Bulgarian boy straight off.

No. He was better than this. He was the Slytherin Prince, not some hot-headed first year. He would just take a deep breath, calm himself down, and walk away.

Of course, that didn't mean he wouldn't get his revenge on Krum.

* * *

Blaise Zabini eyed Draco warily. He knew something was wrong with his best friend. He had been pacing the lengths of the common room ever since he came back from his midnight stroll. That's all he had been doing - for the past half an hour. He did stop at one point, to ask whether mistletoe had been hung on the door of the Transfiguration class room. Blaise had nodded, and was about to tell Draco about how he managed to get a kiss from Cho Chang because of it, but Malfoy had simply resumed his pacing.

Draco's and Blaise's heads snapped up as another person entered the common room. Krum. Blaise noticed Draco tense. It seemed to Zabini that something had happened between the two Seekers, at least a week ago. Ever since then, they had been very stiff and hostile around each other.

"Hey, Krum," said Draco casually, walking up to the Bulgarian.

Blaise groaned inwardly. That was his best friend all right. Always up for confrontation. He hoped Draco wouldn't do anything stupid (Even though he knew it was a lot to ask for).

"Vot is it?"

"I got a question for you."

Viktor eyed his carefully, and motioned for the blonde boy to proceed.

"Did you kiss her, or did she kiss you?"

"What?" asked Blaise this time.

"Sod off, Zabini," he snapped, "And you heard me, Krum. Did you kiss her, or did she kiss you?"

"I kissed her," he said, frowning deeply. He clearly had no idea where this was going. Draco nodded, and let out a breath he had been holding.

Blaise smiled. Good old Draco. Way to handle the situation maturely. Whatever the situation was, anyway. He'd have to find out which girl they were talking about.

"Yeah. That's good to know," said Draco, seconds before his fist connected with Krum's nose, a sickening crunch echoing through the dungeon.

* * *

_Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione_ _Granger_.

Girlfriend? _Girlfriend_? Maybe he should have punched Potter instead. He was sure that Professor Snape would have awarded him points instead of deducting them.

He tried to keep a scowl from forming on his face as Pansy read snippets out loud. She stared at him expectantly, and he forced a laugh.

But was Granger really dating Potter? He knew that this was _Skeeter_ they were talking about, the woman who'd do anything to cause a commotion, but that didn't stop the niggling doubt at the back of his mind. They were friends, as far as he was concerned. And Hermione was dating Krum. He didn't peg her as the type to cheat. He didn't think she was cheating either. But if things didn't work out between Krum and her (he certainly hoped it wouldn't), she'd most probably turn to Potty or Weasel.

So what chance did he have?

* * *

**Aaaand, there's the end of Part One! I was initially planning on making it a one shot, but then decided to split it up, since I was always too lazy to finish. Maybe your reviews will convince me to get the next part out sooner ;)**

**So review! It would be great if you could tell me which your favorite part was!**


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